


Spike

by 1shinymess (magpie4shinies)



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 23:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie4shinies/pseuds/1shinymess
Summary: Steve wasn't expecting this when he encouraged Tony to work with SHIELD public relations on a charity fundraiser. In retrospect, he should have expected they'd hold it on July 4th. The rest...he could never have expected it.





	Spike

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Outfit Unlocked!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11359245) by [Meatball42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42). 



“Is that what you’re wearing?”

Steve really hated that question. It was so obviously a lead in to something else as opposed to actual curiosity. “Yes. Why? What’s wrong with it?”

Natasha cocked her head and eyed Steve from head to toe thoughtfully. “Nothing. Excuse me.”

Steve frowned. “You just got here.” 

“Caught a look at Tony when I was corralling Ant Man,” she said, sliding her sunglasses from their place in her hair back over her eyes. “I need to go change my bet.”

Steve’s frown deepened as he looked down. Was there actually something wrong with what he was wearing? The shorts and shirt were both made of dark blue comfortable fabric that was pleasantly cool on his skin and the top had his star on it. It seemed entirely appropriate for the charity volleyball match between his team and Tony’s.

He set out for a second opinion.

~

He didn’t even have to actually ask Clint. “Oh wow, Tony’s not gonna know what hit him, Cap.”

“You think?”

Clint snorted. “Yeah, because he’ll be too busy sleeping through it. This is a total snore fest. You definitely missed the point.”

“ _What point?_ " Steve muttered. "Natasha seemed to think there was a problem, too. Aren’t we supposed to focus on the game? I don’t understand why the clothes matter so much.”

Clint shook his head. “You innocent lion-reared baby gazelle. Tony’s going to devour you.”

Steve stared him down with faintly narrowed eyes, but Clint had pulled his phone out and was too busy texting to notice. After a minute, he looked up. “In this metaphor, Tony is a different lion from the one who raised you.”

Steve frowned down at his chest where he bore his star proudly. “I really don’t see the problem.”

~

Sam seemed confused too, so at least there was that. “I don’t know, looks fine to me...good range of motion, moisture wicking fabric, the flip flops would normally be an issue even for you, but you’re playing beach volleyball so that’s not it...huh. Clint and Natasha both said it was a problem?”

Steve sighed. “Well, not exactly. Natasha said she was changing her bet. Clint said I missed the point? Somehow?”

Sam frowned. “The point? It’s a charity volleyball game on the 4th of July, which is both Independence Day and also _your birthday_. The point is to raise as much money for charity as possible. And the good PR, I guess...but yeah, I don’t know, Cap. And you know they won’t tell us whatever it was. Guess we’ll have to wait and see if we can figure it out!”

Steve smiled, faint irritation eased by Sam’s good humor. “Fair enough. I guess it’s about time for me to go down…”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh no, I have to grab my seat before some blogger steals it!”

Steve watched him start to race back to the temporary bleachers they’d erected for the duration of the match and then, laughing, he turned and headed to his station where the SHIELD agents that made up the rest of Steve and Tony’s teams were starting to congregate. They were a fairly young group, ranging from mid twenties to early thirties, a mix of men and women in white t-shirts and what looked like cotton shorts in a navy fabric. Most of Steve’s team was already there and Steve quickly picked out the last two in the temporary bleachers talking to people.

Tony’s team was partially assembled, but Steve recognized one from his brief stint as an agent with Natasha, Sam and Hulk. Agent Dean had given them their orientation. He took a step toward the largest knot of agents, wanting to greet them and give them his thanks again for sacrificing their Saturday for charity, but one of the men Steve didn’t recognize specifically looked past Steve and his mouth fell open. Steve took immediate stock and found no threats, then glanced over his shoulder curiously.

It was Tony, of course, but he was wearing clothes Steve had never seen before. He was used to Tony in his undersuit, or occasionally his designer jeans and tailored t-shirts when he was working designs in the lab on a slow day, and he always looked good. Of course he did, he was a handsome man. Once, Steve had spent an afternoon uncomfortably heated when Tony had needed to go into Stark Industries for some reason and had run out in a full three piece suit. All of those looks, Steve had been flustered by. But this was different, and _in public_ , and, and - “ _Oh, my God._ ”

There was a wave of silence from the audience as people started catching sight of Tony as well, which was shortly broken by a raucous cat-call from a woman who seemed genuinely delighted to have a front row seat to Steve’s undoing (well, to be fair, she might not realize that part yet), even if she’d needed to pay $200 to get in and attend the evening’s festivities. Her actions seemed to shatter the sudden tension as immediately a wave of conversation resumed, intermixed with the occasional scream or whistle.

Tony waved at them with a sharp grin before turning back to Steve, tugging his pair of sunglasses lower on the bridge of his nose to peer at Steve over the frame. “Hey there Rogers, you OK?”

Tony had on a light grey tank top with wide arm holes that hugged his well muscled pecs and tucked in, emphasizing his trim waist. There was a message, uninterrupted, written down Tony’s torso in red, white, and blue letters reading **Time to get STAR SPANGLED HAMMERED**. His legs were bare from the thong of his flip flops all the way to the hem of the very short burgundy running shorts that only dipped a couple of inches down from the v where his legs met his torso. There was no blue shining through - a synth skin to protect his arc reactor from the sand, maybe? - so Steve could appreciate the whole...picture. 

“What...you’re wearing…” Steve couldn’t quite finish the sentence. His face felt hot. 

Tony tugged his sunglasses off entirely and held them loosely in one hand while he smoothed the hem of his white tank top and looked away from Steve with false demurity. “This old thing? Well, I had to wear something for the theme. It’s a real important day, after all.”

Steve shook his head. “There is no way that is patriotic.”

Tony laughed. “You’re too wholesome. I meant your _birthday_ , old man. I had to do something for the occasion, Cap.”

Steve grunted. Maybe he said something? He probably grunted. The tiny red shorts only made everything worse. Were Tony's legs always that long? And the shirt! The way it was cut, the straps appeared to curve over his shoulders toward his neck rather than a regular simple loop, cut far more widely than any tank top should be. Was Tony going to flash their fans? No, no, surely not. It just seemed more outrageous than it was because Tony spent so much time in his undersuit that Steve, who wasn’t actually a puritan, had flustered to catch him with his shirt sleeves rolled up in his lab, and now Steve could see so much more skin than he usually could. 

_God, so much._ There was just something about seeing the sharp cut of his surprisingly bulky biceps, seeing the proof that Tony worked _hard_ to ensure he did the best he possibly could in the field, and now Steve could see so much more of his sharply defined pectoral muscles, he was still fighting worry that Tony was about to flash the world. The idea of seeing more of Tony’s chest was lighting a burning line of emotion straight down Steve’s spine like a lightning rod. Honestly, that was probably the only thing that would really drag Steve's attention from his legs. He could see the pale skin of Tony's thighs faintly furred with dark hair smoothed over the same corded muscle evident in his arms and chest.

Steve swallowed. There was just _so much skin_.

Tony grinned. “Come on, Cap. Game face, it’s go time! These people came to see us face off for once, and we better make a good show. It’s all for the kids, right?”

Steve must’ve said something or grunted because Tony clapped his shoulder and walked away, giving Steve a great view of his shoulders and nice swathes of his well muscled back, nicely displayed by the middle strip of fabric that connected the straps of his top and the attractive incline that lead from Tony’s shoulders down his back to...well… .

“ _Goodnight_. This...is going to be harder than I thought,” Steve mumbled as he waved his team forward. He took a moment to try and center but couldn't stop his eyes from straying to Tony’s rear and found his thoughts were scattered and difficult to collect. He ran a hand through his hair as he realized then that this was what Natasha and Clint had predicted. They could’ve warned him!

Well. Steve wasn’t called a master tactician for no reason. He’d just have to make his moments of lucidity count.


End file.
